


Nocturne

by Sunnybone



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Pre-Canon, vague mentions of FE:A
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-11-02 03:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20614175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnybone/pseuds/Sunnybone
Summary: Selena doesn't want to be at Elise's violin recital because it brings up things she's better off not thinking about





	Nocturne

**Author's Note:**

> I started thinking about how much the FE:A kids in FE:F must miss their friends and couldn't stop lmao, and I will ship Severa/Brady until I die so. This happened.

Selena did not want to be here.

‘Here’ was standing behind Lady Camilla’s chair at a small recital for Princess Elise. 'Small’ only meant that King Garon was not in attendance (gods knew he could hardly be bothered to care about anything poor Lady Elise did), but the rest of the royal family was in attendance, excepting the sickly Lady Corrin. Lady Camilla had organized the whole affair, wanting to show off her youngest sister’s talents, so there were a few noble families also gathered in the music room.

The noble families were arranged along one side of the curving room, while the royal heirs sat along the other, their retainers stationed behind their seats as silent guards. Selena would have begged off, bargained with Beruka to do some other task for their princess, but Beruka was already absent on some mission of Camilla’s.

So instead she was standing here behind Lady Camilla’s chair, Lord Leo to the left and Lord Xander to the right, waiting for Lady Elise to begin her performance.

It wasn’t that Selena didn’t enjoy music, or that Lady Elise was unskilled; it was her choice of instrument. The violin always chipped at Selena's resolve, trying to break her.

Selena stood stiffly as the room’s lighting was dimmed by servants extinguishing candles, only the center of the room now brightly lit by the chandelier above. Lady Elise stood there, looking unusually calm and poised as she raised her violin and began to play.

The melody began slow and sad, and for a breath Selena thought she might be alright, a happy tune would touch her worse, be more familiar—but then she remembered the year after Grima had fallen, traveling and all those little towns where the violin was lively, trying to spread some cheer for people rebuilding their lives. When they would camp and all the work of building a fire and cooking dinner was done, he would play the sad songs, the ones from their own time, all the pain and the loss Brady wouldn’t inflict on strangers but could share with her and Inigo.

She wondered if he had anyone to share that with now that she and Laslow were here, if he was alone, if he was waiting for them to return. If he thought they had abandoned him.

Selena was grateful for the dimmed lighting as she pressed her trembling lips together and blinked hard, refusing to cry—a hand pressed into hers and she felt a handkerchief, and turning to her right she saw Laslow behind Lord Xander’s chair, watching Elise as if he hadn’t done anything. For a moment she wished she could slap him, throw the damn handkerchief in his face, scream that she didn’t need his pity… but she could see the wet brightness of his own eyes reflecting the light, and she knew she was only angry at herself for being weak, for letting her pain be _obvious_.

But Laslow knew her best of anyone here, better even than Odin, had traveled to all those villages at their side to dance while Brady played. He knew how soft she’d been, how _happy_.

She dabbed her eyes as covertly as possible, and then pressed the handkerchief back upon him; when their hands met she gripped his fingers and squeezed, and she felt him stiffen, slowly relax… and then his fingers curled around hers for just a moment before she let him go.

Later, when this was over and their lieges had released them for the night, she and Laslow would sit and talk about those campfires, those villages, the little gatherings before the fall when Brady decided morale was poor and song and dance were in order. Odin would sit between them, arms around their shoulders, turning the conversation to happier things with expert practice when it seemed like one of them might cry. Even now she felt the brush of his fingers on her left elbow, a reassurance and a comfort, a reminder that he was there.

Later still, alone in her bed, she would stare up at the canopy with dry eyes and wonder if Brady was still waiting for _her_, if he still loved her like no one else did.

But for now, she couldn’t think of returning home. She couldn’t think about Brady, _Brady_… she was here to help save this world and these people from a world like her own, and she could never return to Brady and look him in the face if she failed. Not if she failed because she was too weak to put aside her homesickness for him, too weak to focus on the task before her.

She straightened, lifting her chin and pressing her teeth together until her jaw ached, physical pain to focus on instead of memories. Someday she was going to go home to Brady, but until then she was going to do her damn job.

No one who had ever met her could say that Selena wasn't stubborn.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on Twitter [@AceMorningStar](https://twitter.com/AceMorningStar)


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